


Dying... Sorta

by Icedaddys_icebaby



Series: Skating Shenanigans [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Family Shenanigans, GPF Fam, Ignoring Vitya, M/M, Power Fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icedaddys_icebaby/pseuds/Icedaddys_icebaby
Summary: As always, Viktor was being melodramatic.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flippednique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippednique/gifts).



> Pair fic to Charades Sorta. Also not sure how to do that neat translate thing, so its at the end notes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.

I'm dying. Kinda.

 

He was dying. He knew it, Makka knew it, Yuuri denied it, Yurio told him to 'shut up stupid' and Otabek just stared as the family argued. He was annoyed that his stupid husband was more or less ignoring him with his stupid 'I need to finish dinner, stop being dramatic' excuse. Yuuri doesn't want to accept the inevitable; Viktor was so close to death he could taste metal.

"YUURI HE'S DOING IT AGAIN." Yura whined from his place at the table, face against the wood muffling his voice.

"Ignore him then, dear. I'm busy." Clattering from the adjoining kitchen told the three Yuuri was scrambling to finish at a decent time. Yura groaned once more.

"I feel like none of you are taking me seriously~ not even my dear Makkachin." Renowned and adored figure skating God, Viktor Nikiforov would be dead soon. They should be begging to spend every single last moment with him. Makka had left for the comfort of his bed maybe ten minutes ago, exactly twenty minutes after the News. A man on his deathbed deserves more attention than what he was allotted.

"I have a sneaking suspicion you two don't care about me." Viktor let out the longest, most dramatic sigh he could muster. Nor Yuri or Otabek paid him much mind. "I expect harsh attitudes from our son, but not from you. Yuuri hates me~."

"Please leave our guest alone," Slowly, the cook of this family set out dishes of delicious things. Fried rice, strips of chicken, salad, and vegetables dressed beautifully say center stage. "Yurio just made this friend. Do not scare him away."

Two heads snapped up, one malicious the other saddened.

"He is not my first friend." One Russian grumbled.

"And Otabek is the only one who is being compassionate towards me." The other whined.

Yuuri went about making plates of food for each occupant. "Yurio, it's not polite to lie to others." Honey brown crossed azure sky irises. "And you. You're not dying Vitya. I really don't mind your antics when we're alone, but you choose now to die? Eat your carrots."

Viktor's appetite was nonexistent. He just pushed the food around disgusted. 

"Fix him!" Yuri had grown tired, mouthing to his father who then rolled his eyes.

"I did last time, you ask." Yuuri challenged back.

"You married him?"

"You let him adopt you." 

"I cannot help but ask," Otabek's sudden confession ended the silent conversation between them. "What do you mean by you're dying Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov?"

Eyes lit up, finally! Someone who cared.

"Well, my young friend," Otabek could feel the aggravation from his best friend.

"You asked for this, Beka." He quietly warned.

"You see, my hair. It's a lovely fox silver color. Platinum if you will." For emphasis, Viktor glided a hand through his thick strands. "Well, upon brushing it this morning, I noticed a hair that was not silver. It was damn near white!"

"He's really telling this story." Yuuri didn't look frazzled by any of this, he wasn't even amazed. This was Queen of the Drama Queens he was talking about. Everything was this serious. From choosing pizza toppings to television programs, it was one big production.

"Hush, you had your chance to care~." Japan's top figure skater held up his hands in surrender only to further annoy his husband.

"Anyhow. Imagine my shock. Me. Thirty-eight years old with a white hair? How horrible right, Otabek?"

Well that's not quite the story he was looking for. "Well you are still young?" He wasn't sure if his words would help, he just wanted this to end.

"Thank you!" 

"Darling, you're yelling."

Viktor grumbled a moment before squinting at his life partner.

"Yuuri, love, don't move."

"Jesus Christ, Viktor just eat and- hey! Ow? What the hell?" Yuri blinked, unsure why his dad just plucked a hair from his father's dark head. These two needed serious help or he needed new new parents.

"You have a grey hair too." Viktor mused.

Yuuri was not happy. "A warning would've been nice. Also. I know. I'm just not you."

After another dramatic sigh (which complimented the exaggerated hand gestures) Viktor leveled with his husband. "What ever do you mean?"

"He could mean... you freaking think the world is over when there's no milk" Viktor then regarded his loving (haha- Yuuri laughs every time) son. 

"I was talking to your father, it's rude to interrupt adults." Ice rolled off the youngest member at dinner. "Anyhow, люблю, you're getting old."

"Nice deflection." Yuuri muttered into his rice bowl.

"This is serious, мое солнце, we're dying."

"Can you pass the salt, Yura?" Otabek was officially ignoring him too. No one cared.

"Sure. Hey, papa, Beka and I are going to see a movie after dinner, wanna come?"

"Well your dad and I were going to watch that one movie about the child seeing dead people..."

Was he now invisible?

"That movie? It wasn't good, watch the other one I left out. It's about a grown man who sees and speaks to his dead little brother."

The older Russian pouted as he tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. 

"We watched that last week. But sure. What movies are out? Maybe I'll take sour face to see one while you're at practice tomorrow."

Dinner flowed to an end as usually. Yuuri was by the door seeing off the two young skaters but he could still hear Viktor's 'hmphs'. To deepen his bad mood, Mr. Nikiforov-Katsuki floated towards their kitchen to clean, humming the softest tune. He waited a few beats before calling for his soulmate.

"What, Yuuri?"

"Dance with me." Soft words sung melodiously along to a sweet orchestra. Oh he remembers this. All too well.

"I'm happy you choose this song all those years ago." Yuuri gave airily.

"Oh? And why is that, мое солнце?" Viktor grasped his mans waist, intertwining their long fingers. He admired the gold band on the younger mans hand when he brought it to his lips.

"I would have never met you..." it was a quiet confession, sweet, intimate, yet it held possessive undertones.

"Drunk you had already stolen my heart." He teased, nuzzling nose to nose.

"Stop running this moment, 私の愛." He warned gently. 

"I could sing to you, would that remedy the situation?"

His beloveds smile slipped into a sneer, "no. Just... shut up and dance with me, Viktor."

Maybe this getting old thing wasn't so bad?

**Author's Note:**

> люблю- love  
> мое солнце- my sunshine  
> 私の愛- my love


End file.
